


Dragon Days

by Sir_Nemo



Series: Boundaries 'Verse [5]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Desolation of Smaug, M/M, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-30
Updated: 2014-01-30
Packaged: 2018-01-10 09:25:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1157986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sir_Nemo/pseuds/Sir_Nemo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>First come thirteen dwarves and a hobbit.</p><p>Then comes a dragon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dragon Days

**Author's Note:**

> Or how DoS would have gone if Bard and Thranduil were in a relationship. Takes off from the barrel scene, everything before that goes like canon.  
> Spoilers if you don't know the result of Smaug's attack to Laketown.
> 
> For Vlad and Ulrika. And also for my roommate, for reminding me what the past tense of fly is.

There was a a lot of shouting, and dead bodies, some elves and more orcs. There were barrels, filled with dwarves who tried their best to avoid getting their heads chopped off. There were orcs who wished to do said head-chopping, and elves who in turn chopped them into pieces.

Then the barrels caught onto a swifter current and both the orcs and the elves were left behind.

\- -

It was a quiet winter morning, and Thranduil and Bard were sitting on his boat, waiting for some barrels. It was one of those silent days for them. Thranduil was not in the best mood. There had apparently been some elven party and Bard would have guessed that Thranduil was slightly hung-over, although Bard hadn't even known that elves could get drunk, let alone hung-over.

He believed it fully though, now, sitting between Thranduil's legs, and having the elf completely wrapped around him, his head leaning against his shoulder. Bard didn't complain, it was rather comfortable place to be, and warm, because during winter it did get cold just waiting.

Bard picked up the sound of barrels arriving, but there was something else too, like sound of talking. Thranduil made no indication that he had heard, so Bard elbowed him, and when Thranduil let go, said:

”I'm going to check out the barrels. Stay there.”

Thranduil made no answer. Bard got up, and walked off the boat. There was definitely sound of talk, and they didn't sound like any elves Bard had heard before, their voices much gruffer. So just in case, he pulled an arrow and readied his bow. One could never be too careful.

It turned out to be a bunch of dwarves and what appeared to be a halfling. Sneaking up to them was easy, getting them to stand down easier as they had no real weaponry, and Bard had a bow.

The dwarves were glaring at him, but one of them, a white-haired one stepped in front of the rest, and offered a nice smile. He was just about to speak, but then he saw something that made his jaw drop and whatever words he was about to say dry in his mouth.

”Well, this is certainly a surprise,” Thranduil said walking next to Bard. Bard had not heard him come up, but then he had really not expected to. Bard tilted his head towards him.

”You know them?” he asked.

”This is Thorin Oakenshield, and his Company,” Thranduil answered and offered the one called Thorin a very cold smile. ”They were my prisoners just a while ago.”

Thorin seemed to have lost his ability to function as he stared at Thranduil in silent shock. The other dwarves were glancing around, trying to look for a path to get away, calculating their chances: in the way of them and their route was Bard's bow, and a sword strapped to Thranduil's belt, and they didn't seem to find these odds to their liking.

Suddenly there was a howl in the distance, chilling to the bone.

”Orcs,” Thranduil said.”The things that are after you Master Oakenshield, never cease to amaze me.”

”Are you going to leave us for warg-food?” Thorin growled, as Thranduil made no move, instead just staring into the forest with his sharp eyes, listening to the noises of orcs closing in.

”I don't think it's anything we can't handle,” Thranduil answered.

”You sure about that?” Bard said.

”There's at least two of my kin after them, and not that many of them.”

When the first of the orcs appeared to Bard's sight, he didn't waste any time in shooting it down. This confused the wargs coming from behind. They stopped, only to be taken down by the arrows coming from behind them. There was a big orc, clearly the leader, who was barking orders at his troops. The orcs split, one half charging at the dwarves, one half disappearing into the forest. 

Thranduil pulled out his sword, and at the same time Legolas and Tauriel rushed out of the woods, chasing the orcs. The dwarves, who were without weapons, backed away towards Bard, who soon had exhausted all of his arrows. The elves seemed to do quite well without him, moving in a whirlwind of blades, and slaughtering the orcs with such efficiency that it was sort of terrifying. They looked like that they had been doing this for half an eternity, which in Thranduil's case was probably true.

Soon the final orc got it head cut off its shoulder with one clear hit by Tauriel. The elves were not hurt, and they didn't even look out of breath. Thranduil turned towards the dwarves, still holding a bloody sword.

”There is one alive,” Legolas said, poking one of the corpses with his sword. Thranduil walked to the orc, who though wounded was still able to focus its sickly yellow eyes on Thranduil.

”I think it is not worth much to ask why you are after this Company,” Thranduil said.

The orc craned its neck to look at the dwarves.

”There will be no King Under the Mountain,” it spat out.

”Indeed,” Thranduil said, sounding more bored than anything. ”Is there anything actually relevant you could tell me?”

”Don't take that tone with me, elf-scum. Your world will burn among the rest of it. There is a war coming, a war greater than you could imagine.”

”Who would wage such a war?” Thranduil asked, amused.

”There is only One.”

Thranduil drew in a surprised breath, the only way he showed that his composure had been in any way compromised. He controlled himself quickly, though, and pushed his sword through the orc's throat, which caused a sickly crunching sound.

”I do hate getting my hands dirty,” he muttered. 

He turned to the dwarves, only to find out that at least half of them had picked up weapons from the orcs, and were now standing in one angry group.

”We will continue with our quest,” Thorin said.

”Oh, I don't think so,” Thranduil said, swinging his sword .

”Are you all idiots, or just otherwise dimwitted?” Bard asked, crossing his arms across his chest. The dwarves and elves looked at him, as he stepped in between the two factions, glaring at both the equal amount. ”I think killing that orc-group was enough blood-spilling for a day.”

”I am not having negotiations with that, that,” Thorin growled, pointing an orc-made sword at Thranduil.

”You don't have to. Here's what I suggest. We get to Laketown, and then we talk.”

”Have I no say in this?” Thranduil asked.

”You have no official power here is what we agreed on, didn't we?”

”Neither have you. This is neutral ground.”

”I'm trying to avoid bloodshed. Be reasonable.”

Thranduil looked extremely displeased, only way Bard could pick it up was from the way he clutched the handle of his sword, but he had no time to say anything, because Thorin spoke:

”Who are you to have power to grant us this?”

”Mayor of Laketown,” Bard said with a short bow.

”You don't look like a mayor,” Thorin said, giving a quick look over Bard's plain clothes.

”We are not here to discuss my looks, I hope. What say you, Master Oakenshield? You can either come with to Laketown where I'll hear of this quest of yours and decide whether I'll let you continue, or you can stay here and argue it out.”

Thorin turned to mutter to a white-haired dwarf next to him. Behind them the rest of the dwarves were clutching their stolen weapons, keeping watchful eyes on elves, like they could at any point jump for their throats.

”We agree,” Thorin said.

”We will come with,” Thranduil said. ”To make sure you don't escape before the Mayor lets you.”

”In that case we will be allowed to take weaponry from the orcs.”

Bard let out a sigh.

”Fine, fine.”

\- -

The barrels didn't fit into the boat, and indeed getting three elves and thirteen dwarves, who wanted to be in no contact with the elves, and a hobbit into the boat was a hard enough task, but somehow they managed. The dwarves were muttering among themselves, arguing if their tones of voices were any indication. They kept stealing glances at the elves.

Bard took some time to study them, because it would be a while before they would be by the Town. They were an odd sort of group, dirty and wet and half of them looking related to each other. He had met some dwarf merchants and they usually didn't look like this. Suddenly Bard noticed one of the dwarves, a youngish black-haired one drawing in a pained breath.

”What's wrong with him?” he asked from the dwarf closest to him, one with a hat, who only looked startled.

”He seems to have an arrow stuck in his leg,” Thranduil said. The dwarves turned to glare at him, like noticing that one of their kin was injured was the wrong thing for an elf to do. ”No doubt poisoned. The orcs are fond of poison.”

Now the dwarves were exchanging worried glances, except for Thorin who was still glaring at Thranduil, and the young one who was looking at his wound.

”Could you heal him?” Bard asked.

”I could,” Tauriel answered, before Thranduil could even open his mouth.

”I suppose she could,” Thranduil said, giving a sharp look at Tauriel which suggested that there would be words had about this later.

”See to it when we get there,” Bard said.

”We won't take any help from an elf,” Thorin growled over the sound of his muttering companions. Bard gave him a cold look.

”Sure, if you'd like your companion to die of poisoning, then by all means, Master Oakenshield. But know this, I do not look well on people turning their noses up at kindness.”

The dwarves started arguing with each other. Bard distinctly heard the injured dwarf say: ”Hey, can't I say something about this?” and ”It's my leg, we're not cutting it off, don't be daft!” This arguing seemed to somewhat amuse the elves, though Tauriel looked more worried than anything, keeping a close eye on the injured one, who kept glancing at her. That couldn't be right, Bard thought. Elves hated dwarves, and dwarves hated elves. And because he had a certain bad history with the dwarves of the Lonely Mountain, and quite a good history with the elves, Bard squarely sided with them on this matter. He wondered if he should mention to Thranduil this interest with Tauriel and the other dwarf, but he decided better of it. They could settle it between the two of them, if it ever came to it.

The argument of dwarves had gotten into sharper whispers, and there were even some fists raised. Bard didn't know why they bothered to try to keep their voices low, the elves heard them anyway.

Suddenly the hobbit distanced himself from the group and walked to Bard. Thranduil and Legolas both gave him a curious, puzzled look.

”How may I help you?” Bard asked, when the hobbit stopped in front of him, pushing his hands into his waistcoat's pocket, thumbs sticking out.

”I just realized I never got your name,” the hobbit said.

”I'm Bard the Bowman,” Bard answered. ”What is your name?”

”Bilbo Baggins, of Bagend.”

”You're a long way from home, Master Baggins.”

”So they keep telling me,” Bilbo said. ”I hope you don't mind that I wait here for them to finish. When they get like that, it's really not wise to be in the way.”

”Of course. And while you're there, may I introduce to you our fine elven companions. King Thranduil, Legolas and Tauriel.”

Bilbo gave each of them a nod, and a bow to Thranduil, which caused Thorin to give an intense glare towards them.

”I have to wonder, Master Baggins,” Thranduil said. ”How you managed to get through my security, into my palace, and free these dwarves. We didn't catch a hobbit in the forest.”

”Oh, well, it's a bit of a professional secret, I'm afraid, your majesty,” Bilbo said smiling, tapping the side of his nose, like he was sharing a great conspiracy.

”You're a professional sneaker?” Thranduil asked.

”Something along those lines,” Bilbo answered with a shrug. Thranduil didn't question it anymore, probably deciding that holding an interrogation for the hobbit in front of all the dwarves was not a good idea. Soon the dwarves had come to a decision of some sort, though there were still grumbling, and Bilbo joined them, only to be pulled aside by Thorin, who no doubt was lecturing about fraternizing with elves.

Bard couldn't watch the dwarves anymore, because they were approaching Laketown, and he had to actually start steering. The dwarves were brought silent by the sight of Laketown, and the Lonely Mountain towering behind it.

Percy was there, checking the approaching boats. He gave a surprised look at the odd gathering on Bard's boat.

”Morning, Bard,” Percy said, and then with a little bow towards Thranduil: ”Your Majesty.” And then with a puzzled look at the dwarves: ”Who these be?”

”Just visitors, passing through,” Bard answered. There was no way the word about dwarves wouldn't spread in the town as soon as he turned his back, so there was no bother hiding it.

The dwarves were looking around with suspicion. One of them spotted an elf, who was sitting on a rooftop, and was waving at them. Bard raised his hand in greeting, as did Tauriel and Legolas. Thranduil only nodded at him.

”This town is crawling with elves,” one of them muttered, though it sounded more like a curse.

”Laketown is in a long-standing alliance with the kingdom of Mirkwood, Master Dwarf,” Bard answered. ”It has worked quite well for all of us.”

The dwarf looked like he was about to say something, but another dwarf, the white-haired one pulled his arm, and he turned away grumbling.

Bard wanted to breathe out in relief when they finally got to the Town Hall, and he got the dwarves in safely. A lot of people had noticed them, but had kept their mouth shut for now.

”Alright, first things first. Tauriel, you can take the injured one to the Master's bedroom. There should be everything you need,” Bard said. He himself didn't live in the Town's Hall, so Master's bedroom had been turned into a sickbay for the whole Town. They still called it Master's bedroom just for old time's sake. 

”Oín, Fili, Dwalin, go with Kili, and make sure everything goes well,” Thorin said, giving a suspicious look at Tauriel, who was restless and anxiously studying Kili's leg. Three of the dwarves nodded, and two of them let Kili lean on their shoulders, as they half-carried him after Tauriel to the bedroom. The third one closed the door after them. 

Bard turned to Thorin.

”Now, Master Oakenshield,” Bard said. ”I'd like to have a word with you.”

”And what about him?” Thorin asked, nudging his head towards Thranduil.

”Just you and me, I think,” Bard said, stealing a glance at Thranduil, who was staring at a wall, with a distant look in his eyes. ”Though I must warn you that I will relay every word to King Thranduil afterwards.”

Thorin nodded.

”May I take my adviser with me?”

”If he stops you from speaking without thinking, then by all means,” Bard said, and because of the dirty look Thorin was giving him, added: ”Isn't that what advisers are for?”

”Balin, follow me,” Thorin said, and the white-haired dwarf nodded. ”The rest stay here, and don't cause trouble.”

The rest of the dwarves just glared at Thranduil and Legolas, who were staring at them down their noses.

”Same goes for you two,” Bard reminded the two. ”This way, Master Oakenshield.”

\- -

Bard led the two dwarves into what had been some kind of a mixture between a bunker and a treasury in Master's house, but that had been turned into a meeting place. The walls were thick, as was the door which could be locked from both sides, whichever side was necessary. There were no windows in the room, indeed nothing more than a long wooden table and some chairs around it.

Bard waited until Thorin and Balin had sat down, before taking a seat opposite them.

”Well, Thorin Oakenshield, what business do you have in these parts of the land?”

Thorin and Balin glanced at each other.

”We're on our way to the Blue Mountains, out to see our relatives,” Balin said. ”Just simple merchants.”

”And if you were only simple merchants why there were orcs after you? Why did the orcs speak of King Under the Mountain? Why did the elves hold you prisoners?”

”For the first two we have no answer. And as for the elves, we have had a bit of a feud with the elves for a long time, and King Thranduil is known for hating dwarves.”

”So he just took you prisoners for the fun of it?” Bard directed this question at Thorin, because he had been glaring fire and death at Thranduil the whole boat-ride. Thorin only grunted. He was clearly having trouble keeping himself calm.

”For trespassing, I believe,” Balin said.

”That I can believe, but the rest of this doesn't really add up,” Bard said. ”The orcs, and your name is familiar to me, Thorin Oakenshield, though I can't place it.”

”We are very well-known merchant-family,” Thorin said.

”Please don't lie to me,” Bard said. ”I am not stupid, and you know I'm going to check your story with King Thranduil later, and if it doesn't add up, you know who I am going to believe.”

”You would believe an elf like him?” 

”There is nothing wrong with an elf like him. He has always been a good friend to me.”

”You wouldn't say that if you know what he has done,” Thorin said, and Bard could see that he was truly convicted that Thranduil had done some great crime. It was in the burn in his eyes. 

”It would help me, if you were to tell me who you really are and what he has really done. Right now I have no reason to believe you.”

”It would be of no use. You're just a lackey of Thranduil.”

”I can think without King Thranduil, Master Oakenshield,” Bard said, his voice low and angry, slamming his hands on the table. ”I don't take my orders from him. And I am the only one who can persuade King Thranduil, if it comes to it, so I'd suggest you'd be perfectly frank with me.”

Balin turned to look at Thorin, who was glaring at Bard. Balin looked sad more than anything, sad when he looked at Thorin.

”It's no use Thorin,” Balin said with a sigh. ”If we want to get out of here in time, we should tell the truth.”

Thorin pinched the bridge of his nose, and looked at the door, like he was considering just bolting out of it. He then looked Bard up and down, and sighed.

”We are here to reclaim our home,” Thorin said finally, holding up his head, pride flashing in his eyes.

”Your home? You can't mean. The Mountain?”

”That is indeed what we mean,” Balin said.

”But there's a dragon there.”

”The dragon will not be a problem.”

”Oh it will be, if it wakes up,” Bard said, sudden anger washing over him. ”I can't let you do that. We're the closest settlement to the mountain, and we still remember what happened to Dale.”

”Then you surely remember the glory of Dale in the days before the dragon,” Thorin said. ”The stories about the destruction can not be the only ones that you still remember. Do you talk of the riches? Of the glory? If you let us go and take back what is ours, we won't keep the riches to ourselves. They will reach your town, and you can rebuild it to its former glory. No one would have to wander around the streets in rags anymore.”

”But the elves...” Bard began.

”King Thranduil offered me a deal, which I did not take, because he is not a friend of my people,” Thorin said. ”But I am offering a deal to you.”

Bard faltered. He could see that Thorin could see it too, because his lips quirked up under all that beard.

”Give me a moment to think about it,” Bard said, getting up from his chair, and walking away from the room.

\- -

He got the rest of the dwarves into the bunker, even Kili, who was looking a bit better, his leg bandaged. Bard closed the door, locking it behind him. The elves were staring at him expectantly.

”Tauriel, Legolas, if you were to be so kind as to stay here, and see that the dwarves don't get out. I would have a word with Thranduil.”

Legolas and Tauriel looked at Thranduil, who nodded. Bard led Thranduil to the Master's bedroom, and sat down on one of the beds there, massaging his temples.

”I am not entirely pleased by the way you out-ruled me back in the riverbank,” Thranduil said, sitting down on a bed opposite him.

”We were on neutral ground.”

”Yes, but they were still my escaped prisoners. And part of our deal was that we don't interfere in other's rulings.”

”I just wanted to avoid a fight, and it seemed like a good idea at the time. But you're right, and I apologize.”

”Apology accepted. What did Thorin Oakenshield try to make you believe?”

Bard summarized the conversation the best he could, while Thranduil listened with his head tilted and his eyes half-closed.

”He's really going to go to the Mountain?” Bard asked.

”It appears so.”

”And what of this deal you made him?”

”What of it?”

”What was the deal?”

”I merely asked for something in that mountain that I believe is rightfully mine in exchange for their freedom,” Thranduil said. ”I didn't really believe he'd take it. Line of Durin has always been known for its pride.”

”It seems to me more that he has some serious grudge against you,” Bard said. 

”He is angry that I did not waste the lives of my kin in a fruitless attempt to kill the dragon,” Thranduil answered, leaning his chin against his hand and staring at the ceiling. ”And when I found his band of vagabonds stealing food in my forest, I turned them away instead of taking them in. Resources are scarce in these lands, and I could not have given them upkeep, nor did I have any particular desire to do so either.”

”I don't think we should let them go to the mountain,” Bard said. ”There was a thing, a prophecy. I'm trying to remember it.” Bard paused, frowning, muttering a couple of words to himself. Then his face brightened: ”Ah, yes. The Lord of Silver Fountains, the King of Carven Stone, the King Beneath the Mountain, shall come into his own. And the bells shall ring in gladness, at the Mountain King's return, But all shall fail in sadness, and the Lake will shine and burn .”

”I have not heard of this prophecy, but I agree. Thorin Oakenshield should not reach the mountain.”

”The other dwarf, Balin, said something about getting there in time. It seems they have a time limit.”

”Well, today is Durin's day,” Thranduil said, snapping his fingers. ”That might have something to do with it.”

”So if we can keep them here for a couple of hours more that should be enough?” Bard asked.

”I suppose so. Though keeping him there might be harder than one would think.”

”They're locked up inside the best protected room in the whole of Laketown, Master didn't take any chances with his own safety.”

”It's not that I doubt,” Thranduil said. ”A madness lies deep in that family, and mad people can do anything. I saw the sickness take Thorin's grandfather and I can see it in him as well.”

Bard thought of the eyes of Thorin Oakenshield and the fire that lied deep inside them. He understood it now. Suddenly Legolas burst in.

”Sorry for the interruption,” he said. ”But I think something's wrong. The dwarves, they went quiet about ten minutes ago.”

”That is certainly worrying,” Thranduil said.

”What? Couldn't they just decided to sit and wait quietly or something?” Bard said.

”Knowing dwarves, they should have started either a fight or a song by now. Possibly both at the same time. I think we should check in on them.”

They hurried out of the door. Tauriel was standing by the door, ear pressed against it. When she saw them approach, she shook her head.

”I can't hear anything.”

”The room is soundproof,” Bard said, but he wasn't feeling very good about this. ”How they could have gotten out? We don't even know if they've gotten out!”

”There's only one way to find out,” Thranduil said.

Bard got the key from his pocket, and put it in the lock. The door opened with a heavy clanking noise. The first thing they became aware of was the sound of water, and then they become aware of cold air blowing their way. The room was empty of dwarves and of hobbits. The table had been moved aside, and on the floor was an open hatch and below it they could see only water.

”I wonder how far they've gotten?” Bard said, because there was nothing else to say in this moment, and he just kept on staring at the water.

”Legolas, Tauriel,” Thranduil said. ”Run along and try to spot them.”

”Yes, My Lord,” both of them said and took off. Bard shook his head to himself. He walked to the hatch and peeked out. There was a walkway that disappeared into a ladder after couple of metres. Bard realized that it must come up at a little storage building hardly everyone had used for years. An adult man would have to crawl to get out, but for a dwarf it was just a matter of bowing ones head.

”I had no idea there was a secret passage here,” Bard said. ”It never occurred me to inspect. Although now that I think about it, it makes perfect sense.”

”I don't think the dwarves knew of it either. Someone must have helped them,” Thranduil said. 

”But who? Who in this Town would have interest in helping dwarves, and know of the passage? It makes no sense.”

There was a sound of running as Legolas and Tauriel returned back to report.

”They're far out on the lake, my Lord,” Tauriel said. ”I don't think we'd be able to catch up with them. What do we do now?”

Thranduil and Bard looked at each other. They both knew what this meant. The dwarves would reach the mountain, and they would get in, and there would be a dragon there, a dragon, who, if woken, could come for them.

”Tell the other elves in Town what might be coming, whether they stay or go back home is up to them,” Thranduil said.

”Could you maybe fetch my children?” Bard asked. ”I want to talk to them before anything.”

Tauriel and Legolas nodded, and with swift movements were back out of the door again. Bard sat down on one of the chairs heavily and buried his head in his hands for a moment.

”Suppose the dragon will come?” he asked.

”It might not,” Thranduil answered. ”Maybe the dwarves won't wake it. Maybe they'll wake it and it eats them and goes back to sleep. But we cannot count on that.”

They were silent for a while, it was a heavy silence, full of thoughts of dragons and fire that burned everything in its path.

”We still have time,” Thranduil said finally. ”Let's take the children and retreat to the forest.”

”Don't you think that if Smaug comes, it will not hesitate to burn down the forest too? We have nowhere to go.” Bard shook his head. ”No. We must kill it.”

”I know the costs of killing a dragon,” Thranduil said, and his tone of voice made Bard look up at him. It was heavy, full of sorrow and memories and maybe a hint of fear. Bard had never seen Thranduil look so sad, as he was now, staring down at the floor, his arms hanging limp on his sides, though the fingers of his other hand were twitching like longing to hold a blade.

”There is no choice,” Bard said. ”I have one of the black arrows. The last one. I have to kill the dragon. And I can't leave the town on its own. It's my town, and my duty is to it.”

Thranduil nodded, barely moving his head, looking pained to have to agree. Bard looked at him for a long while, wanting to say something, something important, but instead he just said:

”Can you take the children with you?”

”Of course.”

”And I can try to get some of the town folk to leave. I doubt most of them will, not until its too late. But I just need to know my kids are safe.”

”Let's go get them, then.”

Thranduil moved towards the door.

\- -

They waited outside until Legolas and Tauriel came with Sigrid, Bain and Tilda. The kids looked scared, having picked up mood from the two elves. And seeing their father looking dead-serious and worried didn't help to soothe their fears either. They walked to him, hardly giving a glance to Thranduil, who nodded at Bard and joined Tauriel and Legolas a little farther away, starting to talk to them in Elvish.

”What is going on, da?” Sigrid asked.

”There might be a dragon attack in couple of hours,” Bard said. ”You will go to Mirkwood, to stay with the elves.”

”Don't you mean...? You're coming with us, aren't you, da?” Sigrid asked.

”No, I'm not. I have to stay there.”

The children were silent for a while. Then Tilda started sobbing, a quiet soft sound and she clung to her father's leg.

”You can't send us away,” Bain said, furious and close to tears himself. Sigrid was standing silent, her mouth a tight line. Thranduil turned to glance at the scene, but soon had to return his attentions to Legolas and Tauriel, who had been both arguing with him ever since they had heard that they were returning back to the woods.

Bard knelt down, gently picking up Tilda and hugging her tight. Tilda had stopped crying, letting out only an occasional sniffle.

”Bain, Tilda, Sigrid, listen to me. I love you more than anything, and I can not lose you. I need you safe. I can not think straight if I know that you are here somewhere, when the dragon comes. Go with Thranduil.”

”But da,” Bain protested.

”Do this for me, please,” Bard said. His children didn't answer, but instead all gathered to hug him, holding onto him tight, their breathing difficult, and interrupted by hiccups and tears.

They let go with great reluctance, Tauriel and Legolas walked to them and started leading them away, leaving only Thranduil and Bard. Thranduil regarded Bard in silence, as Bard watched his children, unblinking even though there were tears in his eyes, until they disappeared. After that he turned towards the mountain, which barely visible, only a dark shadow behind the mist rising from the Lake.

He felt more than heard Thranduil walking next to him. He turned just slightly so he could see Thranduil from the corner of his eye.

”I don't expect you to come back,” Bard said. ”There's nothing you could do here.”

Thranduil didn't answer, took the couple of steps necessary to stand in front of Bard. Thranduil cradled Bard's face in his hands, tilting his head up, so he could meet his eyes. For that moment they didn't care if anyone could see them. Bard stared into Thranduil's eyes, so filled with sorrow. And then Thranduil kissed Bard, only once.

”Keep my children safe,” Bard said.

Thranduil nodded, and turned away. Bard watched him go, until he disappeared out of sight. After that he quickly dried his eyes with his sleeve, and looked around to see if anyone had noticed. There was no one around, not in this time of day. Most were working, as it was late afternoon. 

He wondered how long it would take for the dwarves to get to the mountain. And how long it would take for them to wake up the damn dragon. And how long it would take for the dragon to arrive in Laketown. Bard hoped he would never have to find out an answer for that last question.

Firstly he would have to go get the black arrow. It was stored in his house, somewhere. It took him a while to find the arrow in his house, but when he finally got his hands on it, it felt good, solid, something real, something that could quite possibly kill a dragon. If he only didn't miss.

Bard tried to get the doubts to leave his head. It was no use thinking about that. No use thinking about that until it actually happened, and then he wouldn't have much time to worry about that either, since he would be as good as dead at that point. No, it was getting late, and he would have to try to convince people to get out while they still could.

He ran out of his house, clutching the black arrow. The first person he ran into was one of his neighbors, an elderly woman by the name of Joanna, who's son had just married the daughter of the fish-merchant, Bard's brain helpfully supplied to him. He stopped in front of her.

”Why, hello there Bard,” Joanna said, peering at the arrow in Bard's hand. ”What's the hurry?”

”The hurry, Joanna, is that I have a reason to believe that the thing,” Bard nudged his head towards the Lonely Mountain. ”Might be waking up at any moment, and I'm trying to get the word out and people to leave.”

”But the dragon's been asleep for 60 years!” Joanna said. ”Why would it be waking up now? Are you certain?”

”I'm not certain, no, but it's a huge fire-breathing beast, I wouldn't take the risk.”

Joanna pondered this for a while, while Bard was feeling more and more frustrated. This was not going to work like this, telling one by one. He would maybe get one family out of the Town before the blasted dragon came.

”Well, I suppose you're right,” Joanna said. ”But where would I go?”

”Towards Mirkwood,” Bard said. ”The elves will take you in.”

”But that's quite a long way off. I will have to go talk to my son about this.”

”Please do. But please hurry.”

Joanna smiled and patted his arm, before taking off. Well that was one down, maybe, and quite many more to go. This would never work, he would never get them all out in time. If he had a day, and a certain knowledge that the dragon was indeed coming, he could maybe get them to leave. But now he would have to work with what he had.

Suddenly he noticed Marcus running towards him, looking quite worried. He was about to say something but then noticed the black arrow Bard was holding, and stopped to give it a puzzled look.

”What is it?” Bard asked, impatient.

”Have you any idea what's going on at the Town Square right now?” Marcus said, tearing his eyes away from the arrow.

”No, what's going on?”

”Looks like a mob to me.”

”What?” 

Bard didn't wait for Marcus to answer, instead he took off towards the Town Square. Marcus yelled after him:

”I thought you should know.”

\- -

There was a crowd in front of the Town Hall, in the quickly darkening winter afternoon. Bard hated crowds. A lot of people were put to together in a tight space and suddenly everyone's intelligence dropped to half. Lot of wars had been declared that way, those kind of ideas sounded fine to a crowd, stupid ideas. And crowds were easy to lead, you just needed a certain kind of person and certain words and the crowd would follow like sheep. Crowds were dangerous. Especially the kind of crowd that was gathered there now, people were looking thoughtful. It was never a good sign, soon they would decide to lynch someone.

It was especially worrying that Bard had no idea how this particular crowd had gathered, and he was the leader of this Town.

He pushed his way into the crowd, who let him through reluctantly.

”You,” Bard gasped, as he got to the front of the Town Hall. Master and Alfrid greeted him with grins. Alfrid looked the same as he had, though his nose was crooked a little to the side, but Master had lost weight, and his face didn't have quite the same redness as it had had all those years ago.

”Greetings Bard,” Master said.

”I had wished I would never have to see you two again,” Bard said. Master, after stepping down from his position as the leader of Laketown, had agreed to leave the Town, and Alfrid had been sent with him. It had not been banishment, not quite. But there had been a sort of understanding that the two of them would not return, and Bard wouldn't punch them again. 

”We came by a couple of months ago, on one of the trading ships. We decided that it was time to see how the Town's been doing,” Master said. ”It has been so long. Things have not been going good I see.”

”This year's been tough for all of us,” Bard answered.

”Not all of you surely. You've been running with the elves, haven't you?”

”The elves have been part of this town for years now,” Bard said. ”It's not just me who is in good terms with them. Now it's my turn to ask a question. It was you who let out the dwarves, wasn't it?”

”Oh yes, the dwarves,” Master said, and turned to the crowd, speaking louder so even the people at the very back of the square could hear: ”I assume we are speaking of the dwarves you shamelessly smuggled in this noon and locked inside the Town Hall like common criminals! And who made that decision? You and King Thranduil of the elves! This is no democracy! Elves are interfering with the decision making of the Town in a most unfortunate manner.”

”The decision to keep the dwarves locked up was made by me. Letting them go will cause nothing but grief. Or have you forgotten the prophecy?”

”Or have you been blinded by the elves?” Master asked. ”Those were fine, respectable dwarves, on a quest to get back their home. What could be a nobler cause! And with the riches it would bring this town, there will be no more hunger winters, but no, you are so selfish to hold onto the elves who care nothing for us.”

”The alliance with the elves has brought the town nothing but security and prosperity. They are our friends!”

”An alliance with the dwarves would have brought us unbelievable riches.”

”It would have brought us nothing but death!” Bard yelled. ”Or have you forgotten about Dale? About the people slaughtered by the dragon?”

”And have you forgotten who it was that failed to kill the dragon?” Alfrid asked and grinned at Bard, and the crowd behind them turned to murmur to each other. This was bad, Alfrid knew how to work the crowd. How long had they been here planting these seeds? He couldn't have a revolution right now, not at this moment. Bard looked around desperately, but the crowd was staring at Alfrid and Master with those same thoughtful looks on their face. And a lot of politics ran on greed alone.

”You have spent too much time with the pointy ears,” Alfrid continued. ”You have neglected your duty to your town. You have forgotten your people, and what's best for us, in favor of the elves who do not care for the welfare of this town, and the same can be said about you, Bard the Elflover.”

Master took a warning step towards Bard, but there was a swift sound and then a twang, as an arrow, going just past Master's nose, hit the wall of the Town Hall. Everyone turned to look at where the arrow had come. The rooftops around the square were filled with elves, about 30 or 40 of them, fully armed, but curiosly wearing only light armor or no armor at all. Though, Bard realized, if a dragon came, armor probably wouldn't be of any help, but keeping one's movement free was important. Bard recognized most of them, as the ones that had already spent a lot of time in Laketown. At the front stood Legolas with another arrow pointed towards Master, and Thranduil. And Bard had never wanted to kiss that damn bastard so much, as at that moment.

”See, see,” Master screamed pointing at the elves. ”He uses elves to silence any opposition. This is no democracy.”

”Believe me, I wish not to interfere with the course of democracy in any shape or form,” Thranduil spoke. ”But this is not a time for this conversation. There might be a dragon coming and we'd all better be prepared.”

”A dragon?” Master laughed. ”There is not going to be a dragon.”

But the crowd looked unsure, the spell was broken. The crowd, as one man, turned to look at Master and Bard, and then at the elves, and then at Master and Bard again.

”I'd suggest you let this go,” Bard growled. ”We have no time.”

As soon as those words dropped from his tongue, there was a rumbling in the air, coming from the Lonely Mountain. Everyone turned towards it.

”He's coming,” Bard whispered.

\- -

Bard remembered all the details of the battle, but he didn't like to think about it. It had lasted less than ten minutes, which probably made it worse. How could so much destruction be sown in such a short amount of time?

First came a call in the wind, a promise of things yet to come.

”I am fire. I am death.”

The people froze, when they heard it, their eyes cast on the darkening skies above, towards the Lonely Mountain, but they could not see anything. Bard yelled at them to move, to get to safety, to not just stand there. The water was safest, they could hide under the houses, and pray that their homes wouldn't collapse on them, pray that a current wouldn't pull them in their heavy soaked clothes under, pray that the icy water wouldn't claim them. But the water was still the safest, the fire couldn't reach them there. 

Thranduil was yelling commands in Elvish, and the elves started scattering among the city's roof tops, their eyes too on the skies above.

There was a breath of fire on the sky, illuminating the huge beast that let it out. And the town people started fleeing, grabbing their children. Master and Alfrid looked at each other, and then at Bard, who paid no attention to them, and they ran off, pushing people out of their way.

”Don't go to the bridge,” Bard yelled. ”Don't try to get out of the Town! He'll just pick you out one by one!”

He wasn't sure if they heard. Bard could barely hear his own voice among the noises emitting from the panicking Town. The only silent spots were the elves, who with quiet look of determination spread across the Town. 

Bard realized he should be getting up to the tower. But he glanced at the sky, only quickly, and suddenly he couldn't move, his legs felt like steel, and he just kept staring at the rabidly approaching figure in the night sky. Soon he was able to make out the wings of the beast. He was clutching the black arrow in his hand, the only black arrow, their only chance. If he couldn't hit it, they were all doomed, they were all dead. In brief he thought of his children, in the safety of Thranduil's palace. Thought that if he couldn't kill the dragon, the forest would no longer be safe either. He just wanted to hold them one last time, he thought, if this was it, he just wanted to see them one last time.

He could now make out the full shape of Smaug the Terrible. It breathed out fire again, and Bard's fingers tightened around the arrow. Suddenly there were a hand on his shoulder, and a voice was saying:

”My Lord, you better get moving, before the dragon sees you.” 

Bard turned to look at Tauriel, who was standing next to him.

”The dragon doesn't know there is one arrow left. Don't let him see you.”

Bard nodded, and now that he had managed to tear his eyes off the sky, he didn't look back at it. Instead he rushed inside the Town's Hall, and started running towards the staircase. He was about halfway up, when he could hear the dragon roar, and draw in breath, and then there was a sound of that breath being released, and he couldn't think, couldn't think of all the people that hadn't got away. He continued up the stairs.

Outside Smaug was talking, taunting them for their fruitless attempt to fight, mocking them for hiding, boasting about his impenetrable armor, about the hotness of his flames. He was teasing them, the voice going farther away only to return back again, laughing.

When Bard got to the dwarven wind-lance, the Town was on fire, but he couldn't think about it right now. He pressed himself against the floor, and peered at the dragon, waiting for a chance. He only got one.

Smaug was flying towards the tower, it's great big claws tearing off the rooftops, as it came. It drew in a breath. And an arrow smashed right into its left eye. It screamed, blindly clawing at the direction the arrow had come from. Bard could see a glimpse of blond elf, Legolas, standing on a rooftop, before the whole house disappeared into flames. The surrounding rooftops suddenly filled with elves, all aiming their arrows at Smaug, at his wings and mouth and the one eye left, the only things that the arrows could pierce. Smaug screamed, its great big wings flapping, as it tried to look for a way to get away. Only way was up.

That's when Bard got up, suddenly having stopped shaking, and he put the arrow in the wind-lance, and he took the aim as the dragon, still screaming, flew past the tower towards the night sky. He saw the missing scale, the only hit his ancestor managed to have.

And the dragon noticed Bard and the arrow, and its tail swept at him, destroying the tower almost completely. Just when the tower under him started to crumble away, he launched the arrow.

\- -

He didn't remember how he got down from the tower, or indeed anything after the arrow had took flight. But the dragon was dead. Its body had fell from the sky, and into the lake, taking the fish merchant's house with it to the deep, as it smashed into it. And Bard was alive, and he was down in the square in front of the Town Hall and he was hurting all over. He had probably smashed into the roof, and then rolled off. He must have.

He looked at the destruction all around them, the still burning houses, and the dead and the people climbing up from the water, who wordlessly started to put the fires out. The scene was eerily silent, with only crackling fire reminding them of the devastation that just hit them. More than half of the town was in ruins. He didn't even want to think how many were dead.

It started to snow, great big white flakes, which melted far above the town, so it felt like rain as it fell, pattering on the wooden boards around him. Someone started to cry.

Bard felt tired. He knew he should be with the others helping to put the fires out. But his heart was hammering in his chest, and it was aching and he thought about the dead. He wanted nothing more than to see his children, to hold them, and he wanted to kiss Thranduil, and just watch a world that was not burning. The smoke burned his eyes, and he thought about how he didn't know how many of these people were dead. How many of these people he had known all of his life were now nothing but ash. And among the aching he thought whether or not Thranduil was alive. He had wanted to avoid that thought, but there was nothing else to think about among the smoke.

There was an elf on a roof top, but his hair was a dark. The elf gave him a look, and then ran off. Suddenly he heard running steps and when he turned towards the sound, it was Thranduil. He looked mostly unharmed, though he was covered in fine ash, and there was a slight gash on his forehead, a smear of red. Bard wanted to touch the redness, only color in the burned-up Town, he wanted to embrace him, he wanted to close his eyes and be there for a while, but when he saw Thranduil's eyes he knew that was not going to happen. Thranduil touched Bard's shoulder, barely, just quick brush of fingertips, like he wanted to know if he was really there.

”Have you seen Legolas?” he asked, Bard shook his head.

”I don't know where Legolas is,” Thranduil said, looking so lost. ”I didn't want him to come, but he insisted...”

A man walking past them holding a bucket, stopped and asked:

”Do you mean the one that took out the dragon's eye?”

”Have you seen him, Brandon?” Bard asked. Brandon nodded, and pointed towards where he had come from. Thranduil took off, half-running, Bard followed and it was hard to keep up, because the smoke burned in his lungs.

Legolas was standing by the Lake, on the remains of a burned-up house. He was soaking wet, and was breathing hard, he was inspecting his arm, which below the elbow had burned badly. He was also heavily leaning on only one leg, his other leg also burned. It would leave scars. When he heard them approaching he looked up, and when he saw Thranduil, he exclaimed:

”Ada!”

And Thranduil ran, all tiredness washing off his body as he caught his son in an embrace. Legolas looked confused for a half second, but then he buried his head on Thranduil's shoulder. Thranduil held him for a while, letting go suddenly, and started to inspect his wounds.

Bard sat down on the ground, suddenly so tired that he couldn't feel a thing. He turned his head to look up, at the snow melting on its way down to their Town. He was dully aware of people gathering around him, none daring to step too close. Bard heard whispers of ”Dragonslayer”.

Finally someone spoke:

”The fires are out, my lord. What shall we do next?”

”Start figuring out who's missing, gather anything we can use, treat the wounded.”

The crowd started scattering, revealing Tauriel, who walked to him, and said:

”The others are here.”

”Who?” Bard asked. He really wanted to close his eyes, and just lay there, sleep for a moment.

”Healers,” Tauriel said. ”Where can we set up a place for them?”

”The Town Hall should do.”

The healers looked so unnatural in the burned up Town. Their steps were light as they walked in the ruins, they were clean and unharmed among all that was turned to ash, there was snow stuck in their hair. They were silent as they worked, gathering the wounded into the Town Hall, setting away the dead. One stopped to check over Bard, who just stared blankly in front of him. 

”You have some bruises, but nothing time won't heal. You need rest,” the healer told. 

The healers also took Legolas away from his father. Instead of taking him into the Town Hall, which was already filling up, they took him towards the boats. No doubt to get him back to Mirkwood. Thranduil walked to Bard, and without a word offered him his hand. Bard took it, noticing how cool it felt against his own, even now, as Thranduil pulled him up.

Together they walked and boarded a boat, Bard didn't resist. He was only glad to leave the burned up city behind him, and he thought of his children, all alive and well.

The boat ride to Mirkwood seemed to take forever. Thranduil was by his side, silent. The snowflakes stuck to his golden hair, crowning him with white, and Bard had never seen him so tired, so sad, so distant, like he was stuck in some faraway place in the past, where dragons had been an everyday war. 

Bard wanted to ask how many elves they had lost today. But he didn't even know how many of his own friends had passed away in the fire. There would be a time for counting the bodies.

So he took his hand, and it somehow seemed to help both of them, to know the other was there.

They got separated only at the gates of Mirkwood, where an elf lead Bard away. This was his first time being inside Thranduil's palace, but he could not hold onto any of the details, so he only stared at the back of the elf leading him. The palace was cool, and the air inside was fresh, free of the ash and the smoke that still stung in his eyes. The elf left him in a small bedroom, which only had a bed, looking impossibly soft, and a table and a couple of chairs. On the table someone had left some fresh water in a bowl and Bard took the time to take off his ruined jacket and undershirt, and wash most of the dirt off, relishing in the feeling of cold and clear water.

Then the door opened, and there were his children, who ran into his arms, hugging and kissing him, and though it hurt to breathe, he held them, closing his eyes, knowing that his family was still there, still safe. He did not know how long he just held them, not speaking at all. He didn't want to speak, didn't want to tell them, that their home town was destroyed, that their friends were dead. He just held them, until he heard a voice saying:

”You can talk to your father later. Now he needs his rest.” 

It was Thranduil, standing in the doorway. He had managed to change clothes, and get most of the dirt off his body. He looked almost his normal self, at least until you looked at his eyes, where the tiredness could not be kept at bay. The kids nodded, and bidding their father good sleep, left. Sigrid stopped at the doorway, to touch Thranduil's arm and say: ”I'm glad you made it out alright.”

Thranduil smiled at her, but the smile did not reach his eyes. He stepped inside the room, and Bard noticed he was holding a small cup in his hands.

”You should drink this. It'll help,” Thranduil said. Bard was too tired to question and took the cup offered. The liquid inside was cold, slightly stickier than water and sweet. He swallowed it, and immediately a strange coolness spread through his body, his lungs were no longer burning as bad, his chest no longer ached.

”Now, rest.”

”I should be at Laketown,” Bard tried to argue, through the haze clouding his mind. ”I should be with my people.”

”You have done enough, Dragonslayer.”

”Is it enough to leave my people to count the bodies without me?”

”Your people are not alone, my people are there as well,” Thranduil said. ”We'll go tomorrow, together. And after that we'll go to the Lonely Mountain. Oakenshield shall pay for the destruction the dragon caused.”

”Oakenshield may pay for the destruction of the Town,” Bard muttered darkly. ”But he can not pay for the lives lost.”

”Do not think of it anymore. Sleep is what you need. The rest can wait.”

”Will you not join me?”

Thranduil shrugged. Bard didn't wait to see what Thranduil did, instead he clambered into the bed. His body was aching and it would be worse after sleep, he knew, and he could still feel the smoke burning in his lungs, but it felt more like a memory, right now. The mattress tipped slightly as Thranduil joined him, pressing close to him, wrapping his arms around Bard's body. Bard craned his neck to give Thranduil a long kiss, to show how happy he was that they were both still alive, still there. The kiss tasted like smoke. Despite it, there was a tomorrow for them.


End file.
